


Food for Thought

by crystaltear (Heartensoul)



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Complete, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heartensoul/pseuds/crystaltear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Food for thought: How did Heero Yuy masturbate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Food for Thought

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-post of a fic written a few years ago. Originally written for Church of Lemons '09. This is the clean version. Implied Quatre/Trowa, but only if you squint.
> 
> Warnings: References to non-graphic self-pleasure.

Food for thought: How did Heero Yuy masturbate?

Was he quick and efficient in his task in the same way he was everything else? Slow and efficient? (There seemed to be little question of efficiency given the subject.) Was it done in the shower to save time and clean up, or among the sheets of his hard bed? Fisted, fingered or covered in—

“Duo.”

“Hey, I’m just saying it’s something to think about.”

That was the topic Duo Maxwell had decided would be appropriate dinner conversation when the exchange between four of the five individuals scheduled for the dinner had turned to Heero’s (the fifth, missing dinner member) efficiency in everything. The deviation into the improper conversation caused Hilde Schbeiker to shake her head and scold her partner. Quatre Winner, the other guest present that evening, smiled in a good-natured manner at his friend’s antics while the final guest, Relena Dorlian, listened to the conversation with such a neutral expression one had to wonder if she even knew the definition of the action in question.

“Perhaps it would be best not to speak so freely about individuals who are not present,” Quatre tried aiding Hilde’s plight by offering to move away from discussing the man who was currently in a briefing for that evening’s gala.

“You’re offering to share your technique, Q?” Duo prompted, causing the blond man to color considerably.

However, there was no chance for a decline as Heero Yuy finally entered the room and all talk of solo bedroom behavior ceased. Dinner began promptly, and a comfortable silence reigned for that part of the evening.

But conversations such as those were not the kind that can be shuffled and dismissed from the mind; it is the kind that alights the imagination, remaining in the back of one’s thoughts and settling itself comfortably among other inappropriate musings.

The thought of Heero Yuy masturbating sank in just such a way in Relena Dorlian’s mind. The images, so carelessly crafted with Duo’s words, took shape into images that flashed in front of her with startling clarity, causing her face—and other places—to heat up.

By the time the second hour of the gala had come around, the Vice Foreign Minister had perfected her ‘just under the eyelid’ gaze with every gentleman she spoke and danced with.

\----------------

Heero Yuy observed as his charge moved across the dance floor with her current partner, slipping easily through other pairs of dancers but never out of the his sight. The gentleman whose arm the Vice Foreign Minister occupied was stiff in his movements, but his partner led him gracefully while still managing to let the untrained eye believe he was the one in command of their movements. Relena’s movements, by contrast, were graceful, flowing and befitting of one who enjoyed a dance as much as she did. It didn’t matter if it was a friend or adversary; Relena was able to ease into a dance with her partner much in the same way she handled a diplomatic meeting.

The music quieted as dancing partners parted ways, and Heero silently made his way across the floor to Relena. The beginning notes of the next selection sounded, and bodyguard and charge took their expected positions.

“It’s surprisingly quiet,” the blonde diplomat commented, knowingly voicing Heero’s thoughts on the evening so far. There were a large number of highly influential diplomats at that evening’s gala; it was an opportunity few terrorists would pass up. Preventer support was in full force that night, of course, both within sight and behind the scenes. Heero, the leader within his group, had assigned Maxwell and Schbeiker to Quatre’s undercover unit for the event while Trowa was the visible one. He had assigned himself to Relena’s detail as planned, while still obliging her wishes by being her visible contact rather than his preferred position as her undercover guard.

“The night is still young,” he reminded. Heero, unlike Relena, did not get enjoyment from dancing. But unlike her previous partner, he caught on quickly and moved with efficient fluidity. It also gave him a good visual range of the dance floor while managing to be closer to Relena than permitted while undercover. The position was optimal for the goals of that night, both his and hers.

“Always the pessimist, Heero,” his dance partner lightly chided.

“I prefer to think of myself as a realist.”

Relena’s lips turned up at the corners, Heero’s humor not lost to her. She spared a glance at her dance partner—her first true look at him all night—and just as quickly looked away, gazing at some point just off of his shoulder.

He noticed the difference in her behavior, and after confirming that she wasn’t seeing anything that should alarm him or her, catalogued the reaction for later. He was curious but unwilling to broach the topic in the public setting. He would have another opportunity later, in more private settings.

In the meantime, he observed: their surroundings for problems, the curious glances that were thrown their way every few minutes as they danced together, and how many times her gaze almost met his eyes but always shied away after a brief moment.

\----------------

It was well past midnight when Relena turned in her champagne glass for her toothbrush and a pair of slippers. She sat still on her bed and between her bodyguard’s legs, her hand moving the toothbrush in small circles against her teeth and feeling Heero gently pull out the pins that held her hair in place.

“Mmph.” Hand signal up, the two of them stood collectively--Relena with a mouthful of toothpaste and Heero with a handful of her loose, curled hair—and they moved to the bathroom sink. She rinsed her mouth, and only then when she couldn’t avoid answering did he ask her.

“You avoided eye contact with me all night. Twelve separate times,” he stated, watching her as she put her toothbrush and paste away. His hands resumed their task of loosening her hair from the crown of pins while he waited for her response. 

“Did I?” Her voice was light and innocent, but as she lifted her gaze to the mirror and their eyes locked, her face colored considerably. “Perhaps I enjoy you in a tuxedo too much.”

His annoyance at her dismissal was not visible, but he was sure she could still detect it as they made their way back to her oversized bed, side-stepping the cot meant for him. They sat down on the soft mattress in silence, Heero pulling away the last of the pins while Relena inspected the imaginary lint on her nightgown.

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asked, and then mentally cursed himself. His hands had not tightened or stilled as they ran through her hair to clear the tangles, but the question had come out much too soft from him to sound unaffected.

The relationship was new. So new, in fact, that not a soul other than each other knew of its existence. The plan was to ease into it slowly—introduce Heero to the public eye as her visible bodyguard with more frequency over the span of a few months, begin to defer some of her smaller, less important projects to others to give her more personal time—and they would see where to go at that point. It was to be a carefully executed plan, and thankfully both were competent when it came to execution. But as competent as both were in that aspect, they were often both lacking in expertise in the most important piece of the puzzle.

“Oh, no.” Relena twisted herself around to look at him, their eyes meeting for more than a moment for the first time that night. “Of course not.”

There was no verbal response—Heero gave a final run through Relena’s hair with his fingers, enjoying the feel in its freed state, and then stood to remove his tuxedo. He watched as Relena curled under the covers, hands on bent knees as she watched him loosen his bowtie. His jacket came off next, and he folded it and placed it neatly on his bed.

“Are you going to ask me what it is?” She looked very childlike from her spot under the covers, her eyes gazing at him, though not seeing him as clearly as he could see her in the dimmed lighting of the room.

“You’ll tell me when you want.” The belt unbuckled, removed, shirt untucked from his pants.

“So that means you don’t want to know?”

“I didn’t say that.” The cufflinks undone, then the buttons of his shirt, slowly and patiently. He enjoyed watching her eyes follow the path of his fingers.

“Duo brought up something about you during dinner.” She said no more than that, and he knew it was her way of piquing his interest. It worked.

“And what does Duo have to say?” He bit the bait willingly.

A long pause, and Heero wondered if it was because she was reconsidering the revelation or if she had stopped to watch him unfasten his pants.

“I’m not sure how you’ll respond to the topic.”

“That has never stopped you before,” he said matter-of-factly. He toed off his shoes.

“True.” She smiled in the darkness, pleased by his words. “He was theorizing on how you…pleasure yourself.”

“Duo had better not be thinking about me and masturbation under any circumstances,” he replied as his eyes darkened with pleasure—not as a result of Duo but of Relena saying such a thing. Relena responded with a breathless laugh.

Pants and socks still on, he came onto the bed, crawling up the mattress until he was carefully leaning against her knees. “And that is what has been on your mind all evening?”

“Well, it is a perfectly legitimate question,” the diplomat in her reasoned, a blush the only sign of her admittance to the truth. She looked beautiful that way, and he put an end to his restraint by leaning over her knees to kiss her. Her response was immediate, her knees lowering like gates of defense and sliding aside to welcome him.

“In the shower. It’s quicker and cleaner that way,” he murmured as their lips parted for air, and he was sure he was being teased when she gave him an answering smile and simply replied, “of course.”

\----------------

The morning light that filtered in from the balcony of Vice Foreign Minister Dorlian’s hotel room fell upon crumbled sheets and slept on pillows, but an otherwise empty bed. Instead the bathroom, lit and open, was where the occupants of the room could be found.

“You’re going to be in here every time I shower, aren’t you,” Heero said from inside the shower stall. The hot water fell upon his back and fogged up the glass, but he could still see Relena standing in front of the sink, brushing her teeth. Her motions and posture were the picture of innocence, but he knew better.

“I thought as much,” he said to her answering silence, and then earned himself a well-deserved shriek and laugh from her when he opened the stall door and pulled her clothed form inside with him.

If a man couldn’t get any privacy, he may as well make the best of it.


End file.
